


The 86th Hunger Games

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years after Peeta Mellark died during the games and Katniss Everdeen won, becoming just as much of a drunk as Haymitch, the Avengers are among those chosen for the games. Of course, they aren't exactly the Avengers, but there is some avenging, as well as a lot of character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 86th Hunger Games

**Author's Note:**

> In case you've forgotten/don't know.  
> District 1 -luxury items for the capitol  
> District 2 -masonry and weapons  
> District 3 -electronics  
> District 4 -fishing  
> District 5 -power  
> District 6 -transportation  
> District 7 -lumber  
> District 8 -textiles  
> District 9 -Grain  
> District 10 -livestock  
> District 11 -agriculture  
> District 12 -coal

Steve didn’t think he hated anything as much as he hated Reaping Day. He remembered Bucky’s worried face when Steve had turned twelve, the assurance that Steve would never ever have to take out a tesserae. 

That was a lie. Not that it was Bucky’s fault, but he’d tried to do too much. He’d taken enough for Steve and Steve’s mother, and well, the more times your name was in, the more likely you were to be chosen. And Steve needed food after Bucky was dead, not to mention Bucky was four years older. Steve would have to take at least one eventually.

Luckily for Bucky’s chances in the Hunger Games, Steve’s mother had died the year before Steve turned twelve. At least she’ll never have to see either of us go to the Games, Bucky had said, trying to be comforting.

It hadn’t worked. Being reminded of the Hunger Games that cast a shadow over District 12 every single year was not a good way to cheer up a distraught eleven year old. 

But that was Bucky, bad at comforting no matter how hard he tried (District 12 had that effect on people). Was being the operative word, as the Hunger Games had claimed him as a victim.

Steve had been fourteen, and when Effie Trinket had called out cheerfully “Steven Rogers!” Steve had frozen on the spot before turning and heading to the front, his face pale and shocked, his slender hands tucking his best shirt into his pants. Bucky had run forward.

“I volunteer as tribute!” he screamed. “I volunteer!”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever cried so much in the space of a few minutes. He remembered hearing about what had happened to Katniss Everdeen all those years ago when she’d volunteered for her sister. He wondered if Bucky would be able to get her to help. Maybe the similar circumstances would get through to her.

“Listen Steve, you take care of yourself, okay? You practice with those throwing knives and that awesome spiked disc thing we made, alright? I’ll be back, don’t you worry about me. I’ll win and then we can live in victor’s village together, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve may not have been very strong, but his hug was still enough to make Bucky wince, his strength near-doubled by the fear that he would lose his constantly coal-stained brother in all but blood.

“Okay, alright,” Bucky had put on a show of bravado, but Steve had always been able to see through him, and it simply wasn’t fair that his life would be cut short. Bucky was eighteen though, maybe he had a better chance.

Bucky was mercilessly cut down and dropped into an icy lake with one of his arms missing by the District 1 champion of that year, but they were the last two left. Steve never really knew whether to be grateful that Bucky had been so brave and lasted so long or cry because he’d been so close. So, so close.

…

Clint whistled a four-note tune as the flag went up on the pole far out by the dining hall. Chatter and cheers ghosted up on the light breeze playing around the trees in one of the many orchards in District 11, and Clint closed his eyes for a moment and tried to block last year’s games from his mind. They always played like a TV screen in the forefront of his mind every day before the Reaping.

He really, really didn’t want to be picked. He remembered the stir when that one guy in District 12 had volunteered for that tiny kid that didn’t even look ten, let alone fourteen as he was revealed to be during the interviews. Clint had privately rooted for that guy. Bucky had had good aim.

There was no chance in hell that his brother would ever volunteer for him though. And that was the main reason Clint was so scared. He had a horrible feeling about the next day, even if his name wasn’t in very many times.

…

Pepper was frozen with fear in her bed. Her covers were their usual warm softness (one small perk of living in District 8- her family could sneak out little scraps of fabric and make blankets that were always nice and warm, if patchworked), but her heart was beating out of her chest so fast it made her want to puke. It was the same year after year, right before Reaping Day, and she was never chosen, but the fear of being chosen kept her terrified for days. She was fine, she’d never be chosen for the games. It hadn’t happened to her before, she’d be fine. SHE’D BE FINE!

…

Loki didn’t have much to say, and neither did Thor. In fact, neither of them were entirely concerned about the Games. Sure, there was always the chance, but honestly, they were on the richer side and had their names in the minimum number for their ages. Nothing would happen. Plus if it did, they could go in, get an axe, and win easily. 

Darcy however, was getting some last minute practice with throwing her own axe. She just had the funniest feeling. Sure she got it every year, but this year it felt extra-funny. And not funny-haha either, funny-strange.  
...  
Bruce was fast asleep, exhausted after spending two hours praying to gods he wasn’t even sure he believed in.

Jane was distracting herself with science, her go-to therapy technique. She only hoped she be around to actually use the little generator she’d just put together, never mind that it was just the first type she’d ever made. Actually, it was the type that most District 5 children learned to make in Kindergarten. Jane’s sharp mind wasn’t up for much more than that at the moment though.

…  
Tony was totally not freaking out. The names in the Reaping ball, it was like science, right? If you get the same result multiple times you can predict getting the same result the next time. Except that this was a bit more of a probability problem. He was so screwed.

…  
Natasha was relaxed and nearly asleep. She didn’t particularly want to be chosen, but if she was, she’d just do as she’d been trained by her parents and win so she could come back. Maybe it’d be nice be chosen. Then she’d be able to leave District 2 and live in the Capitol and if she chose to have children they wouldn’t ever have to be reaped.

Natasha rose early the day of the reaping and spent the morning waiting around, bored. When the reaping finally came around, Natasha faked a sexy-looking smile as she heard her name. The game was on, no dropping the act now. The boy opposite her in the district was tall and sturdily built with an unfortunately large nose and a small, cunning smile. Natasha decided to reserve judgement on whether she’d ally with him or kill him first. She’d decide on the train.

…  
“And the Male tribute for District 3 is Anthony Stark!” called the man that was bronze from head to toe. His name was Electricio Stone, and Tony hated him with every fiber of his being.

Tony shook hands with the girl from his district, Christine Everhart. She’d been his first kiss. Tony didn’t want to kill her. She merely smirked at him. His heart filled with dread.

The train ride was long and quiet, with Christine- no Everhart- watching his every move as he stuffed his face with the food. He’d never seen so much food in his life, and he wasn’t even from the really poor part of District 3. The mentor of District 3, an older man that didn’t look like he’d be much help, didn’t speak at all. 

Tony, not for the first time that day, felt like crying, and he was Tony effing Stark, he never cried. 

It just seemed so hopeless. He had negative zero chance of winning, and it just wasn’t fair. 

He could practically hear his dad saying “Life isn’t fair Anthony,” and his blood boiled. He made a resolution to at least survive the bloodbath. He wouldn’t die unremembered at least. That was his plan. Survive long enough to be known. It was the least he could do for himself after all.

…  
“Bruce Banner.”

Bruce walked up to the stage to stand next to Jane, his blood rushing in his ears. Jane was his friend, and as they shook hands, Jane let out a few tears. They suddenly, impulsively, hugged. When Jane had been called, Bruce had wished he could something to stop it, as Jane was his best friend, and was indeed his only friend since he’d lost his temper and scared the other kids their age. But now they were going to kill or be killed. 

“Allies,” Jane whispered. “Bruce, we’re together the whole way.”

Bruce nodded rapidly, relief flooding through his veins. At least they’d die together.

Bruce nearly made himself sick from eating on the train ride, and Jane actually did throw up a little. The mentor watched, disgusted before finally leaving the train carriage, not returning until they arrived in the capitol.

“Great, we’re already at a disadvantage, the other tributes have probably been talking to their mentors the whole time!” Jane said, wringing her hands.

“It’s alright Jane, we’re smart, we can do it,” Bruce promised.

It was such a lie.

…

“The female victor for District 7 is Darcy Lewis!” Darcy walked up, the silence washing over her. She faced the people of her district and some gave her sad glares. Darcy pressed her lips together. She would not show weakness. She was a BAMF, she’d win this shit.

“The male victor for District 7 is Loki Odinson!” Darcy spotted Loki’s black hair amidst the boys. He looked shell-shocked, and Darcy realized that it was the first time she’d ever seen him lose control of the expressions on his face.

“No, brother!” Thor screamed, and Darcy swore her heart started to cry. Thor had tears streaming down his face and Loki looked at him like a five year old begging his mother to kiss it better.

“I volunteer!” Thor announced. “I volunteer as tribute! Take me instead, leave him alone!”

“Well, it seems we have a volunteer,” simpered Silva Moon, the woman in charge of the District 7 tributes. True to her name she was totally silver, skin and clothes, and Darcy wondered if she was really totally silver. Like, under her clothes silver.

The people of the district placed their hands over their hearts, and Darcy and Thor returned the gesture. It was a gesture that meant that the two of them would be kept safe in the hearts of the district and Darcy appreciated it more than she could ever say.

Thor had tear stains all over his face over the course of the train ride, and Silva’s constant stream of chatter made Darcy want to puke. This whole Hunger Games thing was a masterpiece of corrupt government, Darcy decided. She wanted to burn the Capitol to the ground, especially when she saw it and mentally compared it to the small near-shack she lived in. 

Yup, the Capitol was utter BS.

…

Pepper was the opposite of fine. She’d been reaped for the love of god! Pepper was shaking as she climbed onto the stage. 

Aldrich Killian was her opposite, and he was big and muscled, making her that much more scared. She was not cut out to fight to the death in an arena filled with other children. Was anyone really?

Aldrich was flirting with her the whole train ride until she finally got up and left. Why would he try to form an emotional attachment, she wondered? 

It was only when they arrived at the Capitol did she realize that he was just trying to get her out of the way so he could talk with their mentor.

…

True to his thoughts, Clint wasn’t saved by his brother, and, shaking Maria Hill’s hand, he felt the fear settle in his bones. Maria was deadly as hell, strong as an ox, and more importantly, had a glare that froze you in place like some sort of temporary medusa. He was in such deep manure.

The train ride nearly made Clint physically ill, as Maria kept asking increasingly violent, graphic questions about the proper throwing of knives to sever arteries. You’d have thought she was District 1 rather than District 11.

…

Steve was furious at being chosen. The girl opposite him was from the Merchant section, and he didn’t recognize her. Looking out into the square, he saw many sad eyes on the people he knew. And suddenly, a three-fingered salute appeared. He saw a man in dusty clothes raise his hand first, and the rest of the crowd followed. Steve was known to be the one Bucky had gone for, and he got along with everyone. Hell, he’d even heard that the Capital liked him, as Bucky had gotten so far that they’d interviewed him as Bucky’s friend. The interviewer had practically squeezed his cheeks during the interview. Maybe that would help with sponsors.

Steve was most upset that Bucky’s sacrifice had only bought him four years. At least Steve was bigger and actually had a fair bit of muscles now, even though he didn’t work in the mines (his asthma). He gathered plants outside the district and trapped small animals for food, though he wasn’t very good at anything but recognizing the plants. It’d always been Bucky that had been good at hunting. Bucky had been good with a bow and arrow. Steve had only recently clicked with his slingshot.

The train ride was quiet, as the mentor for District 12 was a drunk and wasn’t very good at giving advice, which didn’t make sense, as Steve had always heard that Katniss Everdeen had won by convincing her own drunken mentor to actually help. Steve just had to hope he wouldn’t die as he struck up a small conversation with the blonde girl next to him. Everdeen didn’t care anymore; there wasn’t enough left of her.

…

Steve watched the reapings of each district. As usual, District 1’s tributes looked proud and smug, while the male of District 2 looked vengeful and the very red-haired female simply looked very-thinly-veiled bored. In District 3, the male looked like he might be sick, which was pretty usual for District 3, but the female looked like she was going to enjoy killing her District’s other tribute. District 4’s tributes looked resigned and they shook hands grimly. In District 5, however, the tributes hugged and whispered to each other, something Steve had never seen before. District 6’s both cried. Steve didn’t blame them. In District 7, Steve’s heart clenched as he watch an older brother volunteer for a younger. His heart hurt. Many of the people in the audience had a hand over their hearts, and he saw the two tributes do it back. District 8 saw a big, muscular guy and a tiny, shaking girl. Steve’s heart went out to the girl. Her tribute opposite looked like he was already planning different ways to sabotage her. District 9’s were two starved children, and Steve suspected that they didn’t have any family to cry for them. Sometimes (all the time) he hated Panem. District 10 was tearful and heartfelt as per usual, and Steve just felt sad. The tributes of District 11 were different as could be. The girl looked determined while the boy looked devastated and destroyed. Steve saw his eyes fix on a boy that resembled him, and Steve realized that he’d been hoping for someone to volunteer. Steve didn’t blame the tribute either, not really.

Steve was prodded and pinched into a “perfect version” of himself by a prep team of three. Being completely naked was awkward, especially as they kept gushing over his “perfect bod” and “fab muscles.” Steve wasn’t even entirely sure what they were trying to say.

“Hello, you must be Steve,” the voice was crisp, with the funny Capitol accent, but for some reason it didn’t sound as strange or silly. This voice sounded proper and intelligent, and it came from a woman wearing a tan dress with a darker brown belt. The only makeup she seemed to be wearing was bright red lipstick, and she was toned down from Capitol standards and quite pretty. “My name is Peggy. I’m going to be your stylist.”

Steve nodded. “Coal miner fatigues?” he asked dryly.

“No, in fact, I was thinking more along the lines of what coal makes,” Peggy looked pleased with herself.

“Oh, the old, ‘press coal hard enough and it’ll turn into diamonds type thing?’” 

Peggy shook a reproving finger. “Very funny, I think we both know that’s a load of tosh, and it’d be for District 1 either way. I was thinking more along the lines of fire, we’ll light you on fire.”

Steve shrugged. “Kill me before I get to the arena, I like your way of thinking.”

Peggy laughed. “You’re the one that kid Bucky volunteered for, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am,” Steve said.

“Well, I know it’s no consolation, but if you play your cards right you’ll have the hearts of every citizen of Panem.”

“I’ll try ma’am,” Steve said.

“Call me Peggy Steve. None of that ma’am business, alright?”

“Alright.”  
...

“She’s lighting us on fire!” District 12’s female tribute practically hissed.

“It’s synthesized, it won’t hurt us,” Steve said exasperatedly. He would have been more sympathetic if she hadn’t already commented on it four times. He’d been counting. “Plus it’s been done twice before.”

“In one of them, the tributes got burns!”

Steve remembered Bucky’s infamous stop drop and roll out of his chariot in the middle of the procession. After that, people had stopped with the fire. It had been the first time the fire had been re-introduced since his mentor a couple decades back. The designer before Peggy had been interested in glittering coal dust and more of a supposedly sensual look instead of flames.

…

That District 8 girl was gorgeous. Tony was staring at her, and she noticed and blushed prettily. He gave a bit of a wave, trying to be charming, but instead she laughed. Tony couldn’t hear it, but he bet it was a nice laugh.

...

“Hi, I’m Darcy,” Darcy said to the District 5 pair. She needed allies.

“I’m Jane, this is Bruce,” the pretty brunette girl responded.

“Nice to meet you. So, District 5 is power, what sorts of power do you have in your homes, anything that would power a highly-magnified telescope?” Darcy asked interestedly. Science, particularly astronomy, had always been her favorite in school.

Within a few minutes the three of them were chatting away about science, ignoring Darcy’s ridiculous tree outfit, Bruce and Jane’s sexy power plant worker costumes, and the circumstances.

…

Clint was fiddling with the fruit on his agricultural themed hat (it was practically a fruit salad on his head, he looked certifiably insane) when an apple popped off and rolled all the way from District 11 to District 2. He sighed and went to retrieve it when it was suddenly thrown at high speed right at his face. Clint caught it without a thought, far too used to catch and spotting falling fruit and saving it from ruin to be fazed. The ginger chick from District 2 was sizing him and she nodded.

“Maybe,” she said. “Depends on the score you get later, but maybe we can be allies.”

“I just came to get my apple,” Clint said. “Not a District 2 ally.”

“My name is Natasha,” she said. “Throw the apple at me.”

“Why?” Clint asked. “I’m Clint by the way.”

“Enchanted,” Natasha said sarcastically. “Just do it.”

Clint tossed her the apple and she kicked it back towards him in a swirl of shimmering, granite-reminiscent fabric. Clint hit it with the palm of his hand back to her, and soon they were engaged in an all-out game of hacky sack, not stopping until a handler came over and broke it up, thinking they were fighting.

Natasha nodded to him. “You’ll do,” she said. “Team of two though, easier to hide. You in?”

Clint paused for a moment before he nodded. “Yes.”

…  
Caesar Flickerman, very old but full of life, was frosted a pale pink, his grin was still wide as ever. “Next let’s welcome Natasha Romanov, the female tribute from District 2! And what a sight she is, you look beautiful dear,” he said to her as she entered onto the stage. 

Indeed she did, wearing a deep green dress reminiscent of jade in keeping with her district. It glittered as she walked in with swinging hips and hair, her polished smile making her look incredibly desirable to all that watched.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you Caesar,” Natasha said. 

Waiting for his turn and watching, Clint was quite impressed and glad he’d allied with her. She was bound to get loads of sponsors, and he’d reap the benefits of that as long as he got out before she double-crossed him.

Tony put on his best Stark smile, remembering how his father’s face would twist into that charming, easy smile.

“Well look at you, Mr. Stark,” Caesar said excitedly. 

“I think I clean up pretty well,” Tony said, stretching out his arms in his well-tailored suit. 

“So what’s been the best part of all this,” Caesar gestured around, “so far?”

“The food’s pretty good,” Tony said. “I have a special liking for the enchiladas.”

Caesar and the audience laughed. “So Anthony,”

“-Tony,” Tony corrected.

“So Tony, a handsome boy like you, did you have anyone special back home?”

“Well Christine and I used to date, but that’s long passed and now I’ve just got the vengeance of an angry ex-girlfriend to worry about on top of the other tributes.”

A laugh rippled through the audience. “So, no one at all?”

“That’s not entirely true,” Tony admitted.

“Well, you’ll just have to win and get back to them, right?” Caesar said, grinning.

“No, I’ll just have make sure my ally will survive,” Tony said. “It’s Pepper, District 8.”

“Virginia?”

“She goes by Pepper,” Tony said quietly.

There was a moment of silence. 

“Well, you’re just like little Peeta Mellark aren’t you?” Caesar said.

Everyone knew who Peeta Mellark was. Twenty years before now, he’d made his game more famous than the Quarter Quell that followed with his story of young love. 

“Hopefully,” Tony said. Peeta had been third last, killed by one of the three remaining Tributes, not Katniss though, who’d shot the guy immediately after he’d killed Peeta. Tony wanted to save Pepper if he could.

Jane looked gorgeous in a dress that looked lit from within and resembled a nuclear reactor in terms of light strength. The room looked away for a moment before the dress flickered down to a manageable strength.

“Wow!” Caesar proclaimed. “I thought you were an avenging angel, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Jane whispered. “My stylist is really talented.”

“So, you seem a bit nervous,” Caesar said.

“I don’t want to die, but I’m going to,” Jane said simply, her tone turning analytical. “I have no survival skills and my mom doesn’t even let me handle knives in the kitchen because I end up hurting myself. I’d put your money on people that’ll survive, Capitol.”

The entire room stared at her, shocked. It was unprecedented, tributes never outright told people not to sponsor them.

Bruce on the other hand, was shy but polite, explaining how he and Jane were best friends and that’s why they’d hugged.

“We’re going to try and survive maybe more than a day,” Bruce said matter-of-factly. “But I think it’s likely that we’ll both die in the bloodbath.”

It was a plan devised by the two of them. Reverse-psychology might work in this case, and what did they even have to lose that wasn’t already gone?

Darcy was charming and witty, becoming a favorite in a matter of seconds. Her boasted skill with an axe and strange sense of humor endeared her to the entire Capitol. 

Thor on the other hand, was gloomy. “At least my brother is alive. I just hope he doesn’t have to go after I die, like District 12’s tribute.”

Caesar nodded, not entirely enjoying Thor’s refusal to make the interview light and cheery.

Pepper was looked at like she was a goddess due to Tony’s statement. 

“He won’t survive without me,” she admitted. “He’s not good with identifying plants or getting food. But he’s good with weapons, whereas I’m not, so it’s really a good partnership I think.”

“But do you like him?” Caesar pressed, like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

Pepper’s blush was answer in itself but she gave a small “yes” with it.

The audience was enamoured with her, unlike Aldrich, who was distinctly disliked despite his best attempts at charm. He was just too fake, even for the Capitol.

Clint was enjoyed tremendously. He was funny and allied with Natasha, from a district that was usually all Careers, and the Capitol just ate it up.

“Are you two together or something?” Caesar asked.

“Oh no way, and Natasha, I swear this is a compliment, is like a black widow spider. She kills anyone who tries to get close. It’s a valuable skill to have in the Games, but not really for a relationship.”

The crowd roared with appreciative laughter.

“And last but not least,” Caesar was announcing. “Best for last in fact, I’m sure you all remember James ‘Bucky’ Barnes from four years ago, but I’m sure you remember just as well his adorable adoptive brother, Steven Rogers!”

Steve walked on the stage, shuffling his feet a little bit and looking shy and nervous.

“Well Steve, you sure filled out,” Caesar said, shaking his hand.  
“I try,” Steve said.

“I’m so sorry that you had to come after all even though Bucky went for you.”

Steve shrugged. “That’s life. He bought me four years, didn’t he?”

“He did. Well Steve, what’s your favorite part of the Capitol?”

“Oh definitely how nice all the people are,” Steve said. He was determined to be more cunning than he appeared. He knew that the Capitol still remembered him when he was a tiny, guiless little kid, but he wanted to win. If he won, then District 12 would get a lot of food and it would help a lot of people. 

“Aww, I’m flattered,” Caesar said.

“And I love the lights, and all the brights colors. I’m a bit of an artist and all the different hues are just so inspiring!”  
…

5...4...3...2...1… BEEP

Steve took off running, grabbing a backpack and sprinting into the abandoned city. He continued until he came to a sort of apartment building and set himself down in one of the rooms. 

…  
Tony and Pepper fought their way out, laden with food and guns. They made their way to a skyscraper, Tony looking at it appreciatively.

“That’s a terrible idea Tony! It’s the most obvious building here!”

“Exactly. No one will ever expect anyone will be stupid enough to make it their base!”

“Oh wow, so reassuring,” Pepper said sarcastically, following him in.

…  
Natasha whirled around and stabbed others, Clint at her back. He’d acquired a bow and arrow and was shooting with deadly accuracy. Natasha picked up a spear from a fallen tribute and hefted it. She was stronger than she looked.

 

…  
“Run!” Jane yelled as she saw a Career creep up behind Thor, who was frantically looking for an axe. 

Thor turned around with a hammer in his hand just in time to hit him in the face and take him down.

“Back to back,” Jane said. “Quickly.”

They stood back to back in the middle of a circle of Careers.

“Aww, how sweet,” taunted the District 4 boy. “Go ahead Romanov.”

Jane shifted the knife in her hand and felt something protrude from her front. She looked down to see a spear sticking out of her chest.

“Oh,” she said. The spear had gone through Thor and into Jane.

“Thank you,” Thor said. “You are truly the bravest of people.”

Jane bowed her head, knowing that she’d be dead in a matter of seconds.

They died together, speared on the same weapon, landing in a heap on the floor and hearing the jeers of the Careers above them. Not all the Careers however. Natasha and Clint nodded to the bodies strewn around and made their silent escape while the career pack was distracted with fruitless taunts to those that could no longer hear them.

...

That year’s bloodbath was the most violent that Panem had ever seen. The entirety of District 7 mourned the loss of Thor, and District 5 hated Natasha with a passion. Both tributes from Districts 9, 10, 6, and Aldrich, as well as the females from Districts 1, 11, 12 and 3. Natasha also took down her District counterpart, bringing the death count to fourteen, an unprecedented over-half number of deaths on the first day.

Natasha’s killing of Jane was a grave mistake.

 

…

Tony grinned at the pile of metal in front of him. Abandoned metal buildings were the best!

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked.

“I’m making armor!” Tony said excitedly. “They won’t be able to pierce us with weapons then.”

Pepper shrugged. “Alright.”

...  
Tony strapped Pepper in the armor before stepping outside to face the District 4s. They’d feel his wrath, and he’d probably die, but maybe Pepper would win, and she’d at least survive this attack.

“Well if it isn’t the little iron man?” teased the girl. Tony had nicknamed her jackass #1, because well, there were two of them and he liked the word jackass.

“Where’s your little suit, metal man?” taunted jackass #2.

“In your mom’s chest hair,” said Tony.

“Excuse me?” Jackass #2 took a threatening step towards Tony, and Tony flew into action, gunning him down with the gun he’d made out of scrap metal. it was more of an automated slingshot to tell the truth (the other guns had, as it turns out, an ammo count of ZERO, fuck you very much Capitol), shooting little sharp points at the two of them, but it worked well enough, and Jackass #2 fell. A cannon boomed and Jackass #1 wailed with a vengeance Tony had never heard before. She shoved his knife into Tony’s throat and twisted it sharply.

Tony gasped for air, but his last thoughts were that at least Pepper was safe. Jackass #1 didn’t know she was still in the building, and he was glad that his death would mean something, even if it was only a day or two more life for Pepper. He would have given up his life for her to have an hour more, a minute more, as long as she was alive and safe.

Tony’s vision went black and he was no more. In District 3, Howard Stark screamed for the loss of his son.

…  
Pepper didn’t leave the building for another day. Her face was tracked with tears, and she felt sore all over. In fact, the only reason she left at all was because she felt the room heat up and she heard the crackle of a fire. She ran to the door, but no sooner had she turned the knob than the flames engulfed her. The metal of the armor Tony had made melted into her skin, coating her completely in a coffin of Tony’s own making. 

She screamed a lot as she died, suffocating inside the suit that had melted over her nose and mouth, the hot metal searing her skin and turning the beautiful redhead into a charred hunk of bone and metal.

A cannon went off.   
…

Steve was stuck in an alleyway, no way out but up and there were no handholds on the solid steel outside walls of the city.

“Nowhere to run, 12,” taunted a District 1 career named Augentium. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment before throwing his knife, but there was a scream of pain before his hand had even released the knife. He couldn’t stop the knife though, and it embedded itself in the heart of Darcy.

“No!” Steve screamed and ran to her, noticing the axe sticking out of Augentium’s back. She must have stopped to help after finishing her job setting the trap for the District 4s, and he’d killed her. His temporary ally. FUCK!

“Hey, it’s alright man,” Darcy whispered. “It’s cool. Shit happens, you know? Just, don’t let the Capitol win, alright? Win if you have to, but make sure you do something, m’kay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed.  
“Can you sing for me kid?” Darcy asked. “I always liked music, and it usually rung pretty well through the trees. Seems like it might echo similarly here too.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded and took a deep breath.

“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,  
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay,  
Oh I believe, in yesterday,”

Darcy smiled a little bit. “The Beatles, really?” she murmured.

“Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be,” Steve sang softly, but a cannon went off just as he finished that line. He finished the song and cried for her, putting his hand on his heart before giving a three-fingered salute, taking her supplies, and stalking out of the alleyway, bloodstained axe at the ready.

…

“You killed Jane!” Bruce screeched, and Natasha shuddered a bit. She was almost glad Clint was busy collecting food, because Bruce was terrifying when he was angry, and she had no doubt that Bruce would kill Clint in a heartbeat before either of them could do anything.

“What, would you rather I not play the games?” Natasha asked, carefully pulling out her knife. Bruce didn’t even have a weapon, just his rage, and it was weapon enough.

“Yes!” roared Bruce, punching her down and Natasha felt half of her ribs crack. “Fuck the Capitol!” 

Natasha stared at him, wide-eyed. He’d just ensured that no one would ever see her death. The idea of that gave her new strength and anger, and she stabbed her knife into his gut just as he cracked her skull.

“Oh,” Bruce said, his sanity returning. “Well then,” he whispered. “At least the Capitol will be able to keep pretending that no one is really dying.”

Natasha tried to nod. “Fuck the Capitol indeed,” she muttered.

…

When Clint discovered Natasha was dead, his shouts echoed through the entire abandoned city. Steve looked up at the sky as he heard it before turning back to his trap. The Games weren’t over yet.

… 

They had sent Aliens after the remaining tributes, Clint, Steve, and the girl from District four. 

“Duck!” Steve screamed to Clint, and Clint ducked just as Steve’s knife twirled through the air to embed itself in an alien.  
A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the alleyway, and the District four girl limped in, holding her intestines inside her body with a hand.

She collapsed to the ground and a cannon went off. The two remaining boys exchanged looks, pale as the dust flying up around them

“Temporary truce, just till this is over?” Clint asked hopefully.

“Absolutely, this is just unfair,” Steve said.

They fought hard, but eventually were separated

When Steve heard the canon, his mind went blank. The whole thing was wrong, he couldn’t have won, he’d been hoping it’d be Clint, because then he wouldn’t have to face what he’d done. 

He picked up the axe and, taking a deep breath, thrust it through his chest.

His eyes closed for the last time as a plane appeared overhead.

 

The 86th Hunger Games had no winner.


End file.
